


Detecting The Truth

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bathtub, Investigation, Love, M/M, Massage, Truth and Lies, Undercover As A Couple for A Case, Weekend Away, couples retreat, romantic, spa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:57:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2582186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unusual case takes the boys undercover. When their lives are on the line, what truths will be revealed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Couples Retreat

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe. 
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments --they mean so much. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Lestrade was looking through the case file and rubbing his temples, hesitating to call Sherlock. The case was going to require special undercover work, and he wasn't sure Sherlock was going to be able to do it this time. He'd sent his own people in twice now but they kept missing something -- a third couple was dead and it was still Friday. With two days left God knew how many more of them would die. He had no choice. Maybe Sherlock could find some reason to be there alone. 

_Need your help with a case. Can you come get the file? -GL_

Sherlock picked up his phone and smiled. Finally. Going over a week without even the bite of a new case had almost driven him crazy. It hadn't been helped by the fact that John had the whole week off the surgery as well: Sherlock had found himself getting more and more annoyed by even the littlest things John did, something he knew wasn't quite fair but couldn't seem to stop himself from doing. A case would give Sherlock's brain something to focus on and an excuse to get away from John for a bit so the flat could go back to normal.

_On my way. SH_

He stood up and moved to the door. "I'm off for a bit," he called.

John looked up at him and secretly felt grateful. Taking his vacation the same week London decided to be crimeless was his first mistake. Sherlock had been nearly impossible to live with, and he prayed that wherever he was going now involved a case for him to occupy his time. "See you," he called back, wondering what he was going to do with the little bit of quiet alone time he was going to get. Maybe he could nap -- if they had a case, he knew his sleep for the next few days would be disrupted.

Sherlock took a cab in and went straight to Lestrade's office, ignoring the sarcastic comments from the idiots he passed. He dropped into the chair across from Lestrade's desk and said, "Please make it a good one as I've been bored out of my mind." 

Lestrade slid the file across the desk. "I would have called you sooner but . . . it's a tricky one, Sherlock. It requires some undercover work and . . ." He trailed off as he saw Sherlock reading the case and no longer listening. He waited to see what Sherlock was going to say. "I can . . . send an officer with you."

Sherlock read over the information. "I can go alone," he said first. The last thing he needed was someone who would annoy him tagging along. Then he read more closely -- the hotel was closed to the public for the week: only couples involved in this retreat could register. "You're not really thinking I could pass as half a couple with one of your officers, are you? This is a waste of my time," he said, even further annoyed because it did look like an interesting case.

"Look, Sherlock, six people are missing already and none of my people can find out what is happening." He hated admitting that but he really needed help. "Isn't there anyone you can stand long enough to take with you? Just to get you in?" He didn't mention they would have to play along -- dinners, massages, dance lessons -- he just needed Sherlock to get inside.  

"You mean John, don't you?" Sherlock said, looking up at him.

"I know you work best with him . . . do you think he'll do it?"

"Of course, he'll do it," Sherlock said, trying to decide if this was a good idea or not. He wanted to take the case -- he _needed_ a case -- but this would mean spending all his time with John and pretending they were intimate. "Yes, we'll do it. We'll do it." He slipped the file into his coat and stood up. "Book us two rooms and we'll arrive this evening," he added.

"One room," Lestrade corrected. "After all you're a couple," he smiled.

Sherlock looked at him and then turned and left the office.

When he got home, John wasn't in the sitting room. He shouted, "You need to pack some clothes. We're going to a hotel for the weekend." He walked up to John's bedroom and opened the door. "We've got a new case. We're going to a hotel from which six people have disappeared. Lestrade thinks they're dead. You can read over the case in the car. We need to figure out what's going on, who's killing them and why. And we need to pretend to be in love. Get packed." He turned and went back downstairs to his own room.

John heard the shouting and was about to get up when Sherlock came into his bedroom, still explaining what was happening. John followed the explanation with relief -- finally a case to distract Sherlock -- until Sherlock threw out the love bit. "Wait!" John called but he was already gone. Knowing efficiency was the key to getting anything out of Sherlock, John pulled a duffel bag and packed as quickly as he could.

He brought the bag down to the sitting room and went to Sherlock's, not bothering to knock as he entered. "What was that last bit?"

"It's all occurring during some couples retreat at the hotel, so we'll be a couple," Sherlock said, hoping that'd be enough but knowing it wouldn't be. "It's like going undercover," he added. 

John stared at him. In all honesty he had done wilder things for experiments before so this -- a little pretending wasn't going to be so bad. Out in public, what was the worst that could happen? Holding hands? Some flirting? Sherlock was good at cases, and he was sure they wouldn't even need the whole weekend. "Okay," he said simply, leaving to finish packing his bag.

Sherlock was surprised but pleased. He packed his own bag and then headed back into the sitting room. When John reappeared, they headed down to the cab. He gave the driver the address and then passed the file to John. "Have a read and then let me know your first impressions," Sherlock said.

John took the file and started reading through it. There was nothing in common between the couples besides the fact that they were all at the same couples retreat. "How are they being picked?"

"I can't tell yet -- they're all different ages, races, religions -- one gay, two straight. Only one was married but all had long term commitments. I can't see it yet," Sherlock said. "So you're thinking it's not random -- someone is choosing them? You agree with Lestrade that they're dead?" 

"I'm not sure about dead, but I think they are being picked for a certain reason -- probably not one that makes sense but still." John looked though the information on the couples again but nothing really stood out. "Maybe when we get there it'll be more obvious. Do you think another couple is behind it?"

"Possibly," Sherlock said. "We'll see. We'll need to talk to everyone." He fiddled with his fingers for a few minutes. "Do we need to come up with a story?"

John looked over confused before he realised what Sherlock meant. Their story. "Well, let's keep it as close to the real thing as possible so we won't get tripped up. We were introduced by a mutual friend for a flatshare and before long it had turned into more."

"All right," Sherlock said. "That works." The cab pulled up to the hotel. It was a large house with an extensive garden. Clearly whoever was coming to this place for a week-long retreat did not have financial worries. Could it be related to finances? He paid the driver and after he and John pulled their bags out, Sherlock reached over to grab John's hand as they walked in.

At the desk, he gave his name, smiling and apologising for their late arrival. They made their way up to their room.

John held Sherlock's hand the whole way up to the room even though they didn't meet anyone they had to act in front of. Good habits would help them not slip up later. The room was fantastic -- large with a nice view of the grounds. The bed was big with far too many pillows and the bathroom had a tub definitely big enough for two people. "What a room, huh?"

He looked at the folder they had been given and a list of possible activities they could do. Most of them seemed voluntary which meant they would most likely be skipping them and investigating instead. Although since they were undercover, it might be better to actually go and talk to people naturally. Sherlock could decide that. But there were mandatory things -- a dinner every night in the hall, the big dinner on Sunday night with the dance, and a seminar in the morning about the importance of commitment. 

Sherlock looked around the room -- he wasn't quite sure what he was looking for but hoped he'd know if he found it. But nothing caught his eye. He looked out the window and noticed some people by the pool. "Did you bring your swimming trunks? There are people by the pool," he said. "That might be a place to start."

"Yeah, I did because you said hotel. Are we going swimming?" John asked as he stood back up. "We have a couple hours until dinner."

"You can swim if you want. I'm thinking more 'mingling' -- actually, don't swim -- you're better at that sort of thing than I am. I'll need you to be your usual 'friendly' self," Sherlock said.

John grinned. "I didn't want to swim alone anyways. Let's go."

They changed their clothes and walked down to the pool. Sherlock noticed two men in the pool talking. And then they were kissing so clearly, they were a couple and seemed pretty happy. Or at least quite enthusiastic about appearing as if they were in love. Sherlock saw two free chairs over by some other couples, so he walked to that area, but pushed John a little forward so he could start off a chat.

John threw Sherlock a look before saying hello loudly enough for them to look up. John gave a quick introduction and explained how they had come late, wondering what they had missed already. The dark haired man was friendly enough, telling John about the dinner on the first night of the week and how they had to share stories of how they met with their tablemates. The best story of the table had to share with the room and John was  glad they had missed that.

Then they talked about a game they played to see how well they knew each other. His partner made a sour face here, bringing up the fact that they had lost. At this point, John noticed Sherlock had wandered off but he stayed and listened. When the man and woman started properly fighting, John moved on to find someone else to speak with. He wondered if it was common knowledge that people had disappeared.

That was answered when he sat down and the woman next to him mentioned she hadn't seen John there before. He gave the same story of arriving late and she launched into the fact that it was only allowed because of the couples that had left half way through. John tried to find out why but she merely shrugged and said it was their loss and wondered why they would want to leave such a place. John nodded and excused himself, looking for Sherlock again and hoping he wasn't in any trouble.

Once John had started chatting, Sherlock gave a fake smile and then moved over to the pool, sitting on the edge before slinking in. He swam near the couple. One of them smiled a hello and Sherlock got closer.

"Is that your bloke?" the taller one asked.

Sherlock nodded.

"I'm glad you've come," the shorter one said. "It's nice to have like-minded people here." The taller one splashed him so he splashed back, which hit Sherlock in the face. "Sorry," he said smiling and grabbing his partner's arm to stop the splashing. "It's just . . . there were two guys here earlier but they decided to leave for some reason, so it's just nice that we've got someone else here . . . like us. I hope you'll be able to sit with us at dinner."  
  
Sherlock gave another fake smile. He began asking questions, trying very hard to make it seem like small chat. He looked over a few times at John talking to the other couples. He saw him laughing a few times, saw people genuinely smiling at John. If only they could combine their two skills -- Sherlock knew the right questions to ask but John was better at asking them. When John looked over at Sherlock and made a little shrug, Sherlock excused himself and they walked back to the room.

"What did you find out?" Sherlock asked, drying his hair a bit with a towel, which he then threw onto the bed.

"A whole bunch of nothing," John said, picking up the towel and hanging it from a hook on the bathroom door. "Everyone seems to be in agreement that the other couples left. There was a game -- I don't know if you heard that part -- and I found out that the winner got a free weekend stay. One couple is still here and the other 'left'.  What did you find out?"

"Hold on," Sherlock said. "Let me decide what's nothing. This game -- who was in charge? Did they all play together?"

"Six couples at a time, twice, on Tuesday and Wednesday so they could give everyone a chance to sign up. I don't know who runs it." John looked around again but didn't see an employee outside except the bartender. "Maybe he knows?"

"Do you want to go ask him?" Sherlock said.

"Sure, I'll be right back," John said. He went down and over to the bar and ordered, once again explaining about how they came late and wondering about the events. When he started asking about the game itself, the bartender became a lot more talkative.

"Bunch of bull if you ask me. Like guessing her favourite scarf or whatever means you're in love." He rolled his eyes and picked up another glass to clean. "It was the manager's idea and now everyone has to take a turn asking the questions. Good thing it's over now -- people fighting about wrong answers but they are in love?" 

"Well, people in love are allowed to fight," John said. 

He rolled his eyes again. "About the fact that he likes your eyes more than your hair? Take your guy and get out while you can. Those others were smart enough to." 

"Do you know why they left?" John asked.

"Finally saw through the nonsense -- hey! No drinks in the pool!" he shouted, leaving John alone now. He went back up to the room and gave him the quick version of the conversation. 

Through the window, Sherlock watched John talking to the man. He seemed to really be smiling a lot. When John returned, Sherlock listened to his report. "Odd -- seems almost as if they're setting people up to argue. Strange strategy for a retreat to . . ." he grabbed the brochure and read, ". . . 'celebrate coupledom'. The gay guys talked about dinner -- if we could sit with them. Can we? They seem . . . talkative."

"Yes, we can do that. I'm sure naturally chatty people are bound to let something slip." 

"They made it seem like they got to know the other gay men so maybe they'll have some useful information," Sherlock said. Now that he had the brochure in his hand, he looked more closely at the itinerary. "Are we going to go to this seminar tomorrow? I suppose it wouldn't look good if only one of us showed up," he said, smiling at John.

John looked over to see what the seminar was. "Do we need lessons on proving our commitment to each other?" He grinned and looked up at Sherlock. "We can go. You can deduce who's the real thing."

"I'll know by the end of dinner," Sherlock said. He started setting out some clothes for the evening. "For example, I can tell you had a thing for the bartender, but let me assure, it won't last." He pulled a face at John and headed for the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower now," he added.

"I didn't -- " John cut off when he saw Sherlock pulling a face and almost threw a pillow at him. "Get out of my sight!" he laughed. After picking out his own clothes, John dug out his note book and started writing everything he knew down. This was going to be an interesting one for the blog.

In the bathroom Sherlock was tempted by the big bath -- perhaps after dinner? -- but he took a quick shower to clean the chlorine off him. Then he brushed his teeth and got dressed. He came back in and saw John lying on the bed, writing in his notebook. "You'd better go get dressed -- it's dinner soon," Sherlock said. "Are you going to shower? I'm not implying you need to, I was just asking."

"I suppose I should -- I'll make sure I'm quick. Will you jot down some of the stuff you heard and learned, please?" John got his clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. The distraction was definitely helping -- Sherlock didn't seem as irritable and his own nerves and irritability were all but gone. He showered quickly, admiring the tub the whole time. When he was getting dressed he found himself hoping he'd be able to use it properly before they left. He came out again and sank onto the edge of the bed. "Want to head down a bit early? Maybe mingle some more with a different crowd?"

Sherlock looked over John's notes and added some of what the men in the pool had said. He tried to imagine what kind of people were inspired to come to a couples retreat. What was wrong with them or their relationship that they felt this need?

When John came back out, Sherlock said, "You look refreshed. Let's go then."


	2. Dinner

They walked down to the main hall where the dinner was. Sherlock introduced John to the men from the pool, who were called Liam and Scott. He took off his coat and put it on one of the chairs at their table, and then grabbed John's hand and headed over to some new people.

The woman from the pool waved at John and then looked at Sherlock a bit less thrilled. "Your partner?" she asked when they made to pass by her.

"Yes, this is Sherlock." He noticed that she was standing alone again and wondered where her significant other was spending all of his time.

"Hmm. Wait until you try the food -- I'm telling you those others were fools to leave." She took a large gulp of her drink and then smiled wide at Sherlock, too. 

"Um, right. Did you talk to any of them?" John asked. 

"No. I only noticed because one of them was in the same couples massage block as us and she didn't want to go. Her boyfriend kept insisting and in the end they left. I got a double," she winked, finishing off her drink. "The receptionist had to come and make them sign a form -- once they agreed to have it done, they had to agree again to give it away. Then I never saw them again."

"Right. Well . . . their loss, right? Excuse us, we need to get drinks." He smiled and tugged Sherlock along. 

Sherlock looked over at John. "She fancies you -- keep working on her, especially as she keeps drinking." He went over and let John order their drinks. He thanked him but then said quietly, "Don't get drunk, though. I need you to stay sharp."

"I won't get drunk," John smiled. "And I am starting to wonder where her husband is because he wasn't at the pool either."

"Interesting," Sherlock said. He slipped one of his hands to John's lower back, turning him slightly. "We've not see that couple yet," he said. "She's likely twenty years older than him, don't you think? How can it be that we are the most realistic couple here?" He smiled over at John.

John flushed lightly and looked around the room. He couldn't tell who was genuinely happy together and who was faking it for the retreat. They had to pay money to come here so why bother putting on a show? And why were people getting kidnapped? John nudged Sherlock and pointed to the drunk woman who was now speaking with the receptionist. "Let's go see," he said. When they got close John put on a wide smile. "Not opting out of a massage, are you?"

"What?" She snapped and then smiled when she realised who it was. "No. I have to go find my husband -- apparently we're not doing enough activities together to qualify us for the 'couples' part of all this. Excuse me." She wandered off and John turned to Sherlock.

"With so many people here I am surprised they noticed something like that . . ." he said.

"When we go up, we need to find out who runs this show. Maybe there's some kind of blackmailing going on -- they find out secrets and then want money to keep them silent? Keep your eye on her; we need to figure out who her husband is," Sherlock said. He handed John his drink. "I'm going to have a quick wander."

Sherlock slipped out of the hall and tried looking around. There was a lot of activity near the kitchen. He headed down one of the quiet halls and then heard shouting behind one of the doors. He ducked down a little corridor and waited. He watched as a clearly annoyed man stormed out, behind him was the drunk woman. He followed behind. The woman went back into the hall, but the man headed into the bathroom. Sherlock followed him.

The man was at the sink, rinsing his face with water. Sherlock walked up to one of the urinals. The man looked over.

"Were you watching me?" he said.

Sherlock glanced over. "Sorry?" he asked innocently.

"You were watching me," the man said, s statement now rather than a question. He moved behind Sherlock, putting his hands on Sherlock's hips. "Do you like what you see?"  
  
Sherlock zipped up and turned around. "Sorry -- I'm here with someone," he said calmly, moving to the sink to wash his hands.

"We all are," the man said. "Fine. . . sorry. Once you realise how ridiculous this whole thing is, let me know if you'd like to spice things up." He left and joined his wife in the hall. Sherlock followed and moved towards John, now sitting at the table. He leaned over to whisper in John's ear. "Well, I met her husband. He offered me his own 'special services' -- do you think this is some kind of weird sex thing?"

John raised his brows and looked around to find the couple. "I think _they_ have a weird sex thing going on -- maybe they've been trying to get other couples to join them..." He looked back at Sherlock and grinned. "You don't fancy him?" he teased.

"No, he's much too brutish for me," Sherlock said. "I like my men pathetic and feeble." He lifted a hand and motioned towards John. "Obviously." He took a sip from the drink John had left for him on the table. "Let's just keep an eye on him, though," he said quietly, before turning and talking to the couple at the table. "Did you enjoy your swim?" he asked, proud that it seemed like a perfectly appropriate small talk question.

"We did," said Liam, the taller one. "So what do you two do? And which one of you dragged the other one here?" He smiled over at Scott who made a pouting face and then smiled back.

"John's a doctor and I help him out at the hospital," Sherlock said. "It was my idea to come, really . . . a friend had heard good things."  
  
"I thought it was just going to be like a spa week," Scott admitted. "I didn't realise there was going to be so much . . . couple stuff, mandatory activities and things like that. I had hoped we'd just be able to be by ourselves the whole time. But . . . mostly it's been pretty good."  
  
"Mostly," Liam said. He leaned towards John and Sherlock and said, "See the guy over there with the drunk blonde? He propositioned Scott down at the ice machine. Watch out for him."

John nudged Sherlock's arm at the comment and shook his head, leaning forward a bit when they started chatting with the other couple. "Yeah, I didn't realise how many . . . group activities there were. I heard that some couples left -- do you think that's why?" John asked, sipping at his drink.

"I really don't know," Scott said. "Probably. The other guys -- I don't think they were really all that serious about things. They hadn't been together long: to be honest, I think they were just interested in shagging. Not that there's anything wrong with that . . ." He smiled, not wanting to imply anything with his comment. "They were younger -- I think they had just hooked up a club one night and both had more money than they knew what to do with."

"How long have you two been together?" Liam asked. "Tomorrow's our ten year anniversary." He reached over and held Scott's hand.

"Congratulations," Sherlock said. He reached over and held John's hand as well. "We've been together about a year. It's been . . . magical," he smiled at John stupidly. He turned back to the other men. "So what do you two do?"

"I'm in advertising and Scott works at an art museum," Liam said. "What did you say you do?" he asked Sherlock.

Just then the waiters came and put the food down on the table. Sherlock took a huge bite immediately. "Hmmm . . . delicious," he said. Before the waiter left, Sherlock ordered a bottle of champagne. "To celebrate your anniversary," he said.

The two men thanked him. Sherlock turned to John and asked, "Your food all right?"

"Yes, it's very good," John nodded, taking a big bite.

"Are you two going to the seminar in the morning?" Sherlock asked. "Who leads these things?"  
  
Liam said, "Some psychologist, I think . . . Sharon Winters, maybe? We'll see how we feel when we wake up," he smiled at Scott. "We might want a lie-in on our anniversary." He turned back to John and Sherlock. "Do you guys have a big bath in your room? You should try it -- it's great, jets and everything."  
  
Sherlock smiled. "We might after dinner," he said. The waiter brought the champagne and four glasses. Sherlock lifted his and said, "Happy anniversary."  


Liam and Scott looked at each other and leaned in to kiss. "Thank you, both," Scott said. "Perhaps we'll meet again for your tenth."  
  
"Perhaps," Sherlock said. He looked over at John and smiled. Why wouldn't they still be together in nine years? Sherlock was very happy working and living with John. He was happy with their friendship. He went back to eating.

"When we met, we were just flatmates and I was dating quite a bit. But then . . . well, the more time that passed the more excited I was to come home at the end of the night." John smiled over at Sherlock, surprised with how easily the words came -- even more so when he realised they were true. "I think ten years will be easy." He leaned over at kissed Sherlock's cheek to add effect.

Sherlock felt his face redden a little.

"That's sweet," Scott said. They all focused on their food as they finished the champagne. 

After the meal, Sherlock and John went back up to the room. "Want to write out some notes for us? Blonde woman seems harmless and sad, but the husband is definitely quite dodgy. Maybe you could turn on your charm with her a bit more tomorrow. We need to check on the Sharon Winters character and find out if she's the one behind the whole event. I'm still wondering if it's money-related." Sherlock kicked off his shoes and hung up his jacket. "I'm knackered. Being your boyfriend is exhausting," he said as he flopped on the bed.

"And we didn't even do any of the good stuff," John teased. He changed into his pajamas and climbed into the bed, opening his notebook to jot down what they learned today. "I don't think it would be the doctor -- she's only a guest here to speak, I doubt she's even staying at this hotel."

"Are we skipping the bath then?" Sherlock asked, smiling. He put on his pajamas and got into the bed properly. He turned on his side to look at John. "We should have said it was our anniversary as well," he said. "Maybe the hotel gives you special stuff if it's your anniversary." 

"That might have been trying too hard," John said, looking over at him. "Liam and Scott seem really happy together. I hope that's what we looked like." He closed his notebook and lay down as well, facing Sherlock. "Did you mind what I said at dinner?"

"You'll be greyer, that's for sure," Sherlock said, imagining John in ten years' time. Then he realised what John had actually said. "Oh, you mean tonight. Yes, I'm sure they believed us. I don't remember what you said, so it must not have bothered me."

"Okay," John smiled softly, not bothering to repeat himself. "You'll be grey as well," he added as an afterthought. "What's our plan after the seminar tomorrow?"

"I really don't fancy the massage business, but it seems like it might be key. Have you ever had one?" Sherlock asked.

"Not a proper one," John said. "We could split up -- maybe even attract the attention of the kidnapper and find them faster," he suggested.

"But your girlfriend said they got reprimanded for not being together all the time," Sherlock said. "Whatever we plan, we should do it together -- we can always nip to the toilet or something if one of us needs to check something out." He snuggled down into the bed. "This bed is pretty comfortable really. It's huge. Can you hear me all right?" he raised his voice as if John were far away. 

John laughed and strained his ear. "You might have to text me," he said, fake shouting at him.

"Set your alarm, yeah?" He reached up and turned off his lamp. "I'm going to try to sleep. I don't know how long I'll last -- if I have to get up, I'll try not to disturb you. Good night." He turned over away from John.

John nodded, turning to get his phone. When he set it he turned off his own lamp, flipped onto his stomach and closed his eyes. So far it was all pretty easy -- well, the pretending part. They needed to narrow down suspects but he was sure they could in the morning. Sherlock was good. He drifted off, snoring softly.

Sherlock got up a few times in the night, moving to the table to get on his laptop and do some searches. Lestrade had emailed but Sherlock felt they didn't have enough information yet, so he didn't bother emailing back. When he awoke properly in the morning, he lay in bed waiting for John's alarm to go off. When it did, he said good morning to John and then got up to go to the bathroom and shower. Then he came out to wake John up properly.

"The psychologist checks out," he said, "but she might be worth talking to see if she knows people are leaving. Perhaps it's nothing to do with the retreat -- maybe it's someone at the hotel. Let's go to this seminar. I need a cup of tea anyway."


	3. The Breakfast Seminar

When John woke up, it took his brain a second to catch up. "Sherlock, I hope you at least slept a little bit," he said as he went into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and used cold water to get himself alert faster before coming back out to change. "When we get there let's try and sit in the back a bit." He didn't want to get called on for anything if they did that sort of thing. 

"That's fine," Sherlock said, leading them out. They got the breakfast and found a seat in back. Sherlock scanned the room and then leaned over to John to say, "Liam and Scott aren't here nor are the drunk woman and her 'friendly' husband."

"Well, the guys did say they might have a lie-in today since they are celebrating. And this doesn't seem like the sort of thing they would attend. We should look for them after," John said, scanning the room again. It was filling up fast. 

A woman came into the room and welcomed everyone. She started talking about relationships. Sherlock quickly found it boring. "Are you taking notes on this?" he said to John sarcastically. "Perhaps it'll be useful to help you get a second date with a woman." He smiled.

John nudged his arm and shook his head. "We're here to observe, remember?" he whispered back. He looked around the room, but he couldn't see like Sherlock. If he had to pick one couple to murder, who would he pick? Why?

"You keep paying attention to the commitment stuff -- I am sick of you seeing other people while you're supposed to be mine," Sherlock said smiling. "I'll be right back." He quietly pushed his chair away from the table and wandered out into the hallway. He walked down by the room where he had heard the couple fighting yesterday, but it was quiet. He made his way to the front desk and smiled widely at the receptionist.  
  
"Good morning . . . Carolyn," he said, glancing down at her nametag. "I was wondering if you could help me. I met some people last night and I can't seem to find them this morning. The woman lent me a guidebook and I'd like to return it to her."

"There are a lot of people here -- maybe you could be more specific?" she asked, looking for Sherlock's name tag. "You know, you're both supposed to be wearing a tag for group events -- wasn't there one in your packet?"

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said. "I'll check when I get back to the room. The woman . . . she was blonde-haired, seemed like a lot of fun. Her partner was taller, dark hair, seemed like . . . they had been married a long time."

"I'm sure I have no idea who exactly you mean -- but we give the guidebooks out for free. I am sure by now she has a new one. Don't worry about it, okay? You should get back to your seminar," she added, pointing towards the door Sherlock had come from. 

"Thanks, Carolyn," Sherlock said. "I hope I've not missed anything important." He smiled and walked back into the hall. "Any new developments?" he whispered to John.

John shook his head. "It's just about over now. I noticed our friends out there by the pool again. They're the smart ones for using their time to relax and celebrate rather than listening to all this," he added, pointing to the window. "What did you find out?"

Sherlock glanced over. "I'm glad they're safe," he said. "The receptionist wasn't very helpful. Did you get the drunk woman's name? We're supposed to be wearing badges, why don't we have badges? She was mean to me because I didn't have my badge on. You should go defend my honour since you're my life partner even though it's actually your fault I'm not wearing a badge." 

John rolled his eyes. "We got badges, but I thought they were stupid. Do you want me to go yell at her? Make her apologise?" He smiled. 

"Yes, please," Sherlock said. "You would if you love me." He pulled a face just as everyone started to applaud the speaker. "Let's go chat to Liam and Scott," he said. "Don't forget to wish them a happy anniversary." He stood up from his chair.

"I won't forget -- don't nag me," John grumbled. He reached out for Sherlock's hand as they walked through the crowd.   
  
"Don't be so grouchy," Sherlock said. "It's our one day anniversary." He squeezed his hand.

John looked over and couldn't help smiling. When they got outside, he saw Liam waving them over. 

"Did you enjoy the seminar?" he asked, grinning. 

"Not as much as your lie-in, I'm thinking," John smiled back. "It was all right."

Sherlock rolled his eyes but smiled. "So how are you planning on spending your anniversary?" he asked the men.

"We're reserved an hour for the massage -- you guys should come, too," Liam said. "I hear really good things about it from people who go."

"Oh," John said, glancing over at Sherlock and imagining going. "Well, we don't have anything planned -- maybe we'll check it out."

"Come with us! Don't leave us alone with that annoying couple!" Scott said. "I don't think I can stand listening to them moaning for an hour." 

Sherlock wasn't quite sure about the massage bit, but if that other couple were going to be there, it might be worth it. "All right," he said, smiling at John. "Whatever you want is fine with me."

John looked up at Sherlock and then back at the Liam and Scott. "All right then, we're in," he agreed. 

"Excellent!" Liam grinned. "Our appointment is at one."

They sat by the pool for a little while until Sherlock said, "I think I'll go up to the room before the massage. John, are you going to stay here or come up with me?"

The guys smiled at each other which made John flush more than Sherlock's question. "I'll come up, um, we'll see you guys later," he added, before getting up as well. He followed Sherlock, unable to look back at them.  

"Why is your face all red? We weren't out in the sun long," Sherlock asked.

"What? I don't know -- sensitive," John said quickly with a shrug.

When they got back to the room, Sherlock made them each a cup of tea. "John, I'm a little anxious about the massage business. I'm not usually . . . touched." Now Sherlock's face flushed a bit.

"Well, maybe we can convince them that we want to make it more romantic and I can do it -- or pretend to," John said.

"Hmmm . . . possibly, but not in front of other people," Sherlock said.

"I'm sure it'll be private -- well, I hope it will be," John said. "If not maybe we can get out of it."

"Now you're trying to get out of it . . . why'd you offer if you find the idea of massaging me so disgusting?" Sherlock asked in mock offense.

"It's not! You said you didn't want to --" John cut off and threw a pillow at him. "Stop teasing me!"

Sherlock stood up and looked out the window. He watched Liam and Scott at the pool for a few minutes. "A lot of the couples here seem miserable, but they . . . do you think they're happy?"

John nodded. "They really seem it. And to act the way they do after ten years . . .they must really be in love."

"They almost make it seem . . . appealing," Sherlock said, almost wistfully. He turned around and moved to lie down on the bed. "Anyway, I feel like the drunk and her lecherous husband are key -- I don't know if they're suspects or not, but I feel like they're the ones we need to find out more about. She obviously fancies you, he appears to be more interested in men. In the interest of safety, I'm thinking it might make sense for us to start with you and her. Will you do your best to try to chat to her alone, but you've got to do it without raising anyone's, including her husband's, suspicions, okay?"

John looked out at them by the pool, smiling softly as he watched Liam kiss Scott's cheek. Then he looked to Sherlock again, moving to sit at the desk. "I will try to get closer to her but I don't know how much she can tell us. She's so worried about reaping the benefits of this place. What will you do?"

"Get a massage -- that's going to be stressful enough," Sherlock said, smiling. "Maybe the massage person will be friendlier than the receptionist." He wondered if it would be a man or woman.

"Now I'm not allowed to get a massage? We're supposed to be a couple!" John smiled. "I can't keep defending you if you keep breaking the rules."

"No, you come with me and I'll go in first while you talk to the blonde. I don't understand how this whole couples massage works . . . I need a nap -- this romance stuff is confusing me . . ." he closed his eyes for a minute. "What time are we supposed to meet them down there? Do we wear clothes? I mean, during the massage."

"They said it was at one so we only have a couple hours. And I'm not sure about the clothes part -- I assume they will tell us when we get there." John looked over at him and imagined Sherlock without clothes on, being rubbed down by a stranger while he watched. He didn't like it at all and suddenly he didn't want to go anywhere. But that was stupid -- Sherlock was the one uncomfortable with this idea, and John wanted to go to help Sherlock and the case.

"I think it's just the not knowing what to expect . . . Liam and Scott seem keen -- I guess it's worth trying," he said as he stood up. "I think I'll go on a little walk. Surely we're allowed to do that on our own. Where's the nametag? I'll wear that. I don't want to draw attention, but I'd like to get a sense of the place and the other people here." He moved to the mirror and straightened up his clothes.

John reached into the drawer where he had stuffed the introductory packet. "I told you they were silly," he murmured, handing Sherlock the right one. Above Sherlock's name it said 'John's' just like his own that said 'Sherlock's John'.

"Jesus Christ, you are right," Sherlock said. "Is this normal couple stuff or is this some kind of cult or something?" He put it on. "I didn't think it was necessary to say this before but now I'm thinking it's worth mentioning: the non-case-related details of this trip shall remain between us, yeah?"

"This is extreme couple stuff," John said, looking at his own name tag. "And yes, I just assumed that from the beginning."

"Are you going to stay in the room or what? Let me know, just in case they question me so I know what to say if I get stopped."

"When you said you were hoping you were allowed to walk alone I assumed you wanted to be alone -- to think or whatever." John shrugged. "I can stay here and take notes and then meet you for the massage?"

"Yeah, I want to go alone -- I just meant if that friendly receptionist stops and asks me where my partner is, I want to be able to say. I'll tell her you're luxuriating in the big bath, okay? Did you check to make sure there's enough bubbles?" He pulled a face and moved to the door. "See you at the massage, lover boy" and then he left.

He made his way downstairs and went to the big hall which was no empty. He could see Liam and Scott still at the pool but they were alone. He wandered up and down the halls for a bit and then snuck into the staff only section, but all the doors there were locked. He felt his phone vibrate.

_Anything yet? GL_

Sherlock slipped out the front door and rang Lestrade.

"Nothing, but there's a very odd vibe here," he said.

"Are you sure it's not just you freaking out around people in love?"

"I don't get a sense a lot of them are in love," Sherlock said, deciding to ignore the personal dig. "We saw a couple last night who seemed to be particularly unhappy but we've not seen them yet today."  
  
"Should I send uniformed?" Lestrade asked.

"No, not yet," Sherlock said. "There's still no evidence of foul play. It's just . . . strange. Anyway, we're meeting with some others at one. Hopefully we'll know more after that." He hung up his phone, and as he did, he noticed a couple off in the distance. He couldn't hear them but from the body language, he could tell they were arguing. He stepped behind a pillar and then saw the man walk into the hotel. He was a staff member, mumbling "Crazy bitch." Sherlock stepped out to look for the woman, but she was gone.

John rolled his eyes as Sherlock left, but he perked up a bit at the words. The bath! How could he have forgotten? There was plenty of time to try it now. He went into the bathroom and started the water, getting it to a good temperature before adding the soap. He undressed and climbed in -- it really was made for two people because he had more than enough room to sprawl out. When it filled he turned off the water and closed his eyes, relaxing.

This was easier than he imagined -- the undercover part anyways -- because they weren't really doing anything different and yet everyone believed them _. What does that say about your actions?_ He mentally looked at this voice and didn't know what to say. How could he change his behaviour when he was doing nothing but acting like himself? He wouldn't be mean to Sherlock just so people didn't think they were dating. _Do you like when they think you're dating?_

He opened his eyes as he realised he did like it. Even though he denied it and scoffed and got a bit embarrassed, deep down he liked it because Sherlock didn't like anyone and yet he liked John. Sherlock didn't like being touched and yet he was always grabbing onto John for some reason. He probably could have brought a trained officer with him yet he'd brought John. But these things didn't mean what others assumed they meant. Sherlock didn't love John. They were just friends, but Sherlock didn't have other friends so it did make John feel special. He went back to thinking about the other things until he dozed off in the tub. 

Sherlock went back into the hotel, but didn't see anyone at the desk. He wandered the rest of the building and ended up at the pool, but the men were gone. He sat for a few minutes until a couple they had met there yesterday joined him.

"Where's John?" the woman asked.

"He's taking a bath. We're going for a massage in a bit," he said. "Do you happen to know the name of the blonde woman who was out here yesterday?"

"Ellie? You mean the woman with the disgusting husband?" the woman said.

"Have you seen her today?" he asked.

The woman looked at her husband. "Not yet -- they weren't at the seminar, were they?" Her husband shook his head. "I assumed she'd be out here." She shrugged. "I'll stop by their room -- maybe we'll join you and John at dinner?"

"Sure," Sherlock said. "Well, I'd best be off to make sure John hasn't fallen asleep." He stood up and said goodbye.

"Enjoy the massage," she called after him.


	4. Some Clues

Sherlock returned to the room but John wasn't there. He noticed the bathroom door was shut, but he didn't hear any noise. "John?" he called, tapping softly at the door.

John started awake and sloshed some water over the side. It had gone cold now and he realised he was cold himself. "I was trying the tub and I fell asleep," he called back. He got out of the tub and dried off quickly, wrapping the towel around himself as he noticed he forgot to bring in a change of clothes. He pulled the plug on the drain before opening the door. "We didn't miss the massage, did we?" 

"That good, eh?" Sherlock said. He looked over at John, who looked quite handsome with his hair wet like that. "You look quite handsome with your hair wet like that," he said. "It's ten to one. Get dressed and we'll still be on time." He moved over and sat at the chair, flipping through a guidebook on the table.

John reached up immediately and touched his wet hair. Without thinking he brought the towel off and ruffled it hard to dry it. Then he remembered where he was and he covered up quickly, flushing darkly and changing as best he could without removing the towel until he absolutely had to. When he caught a glimpse of his hair in the mirror he groaned and tried to flatten it out a bit before they left. 

They headed down. Sherlock held John's hand. "You do the talking," he said. "I've gone a bit anxious about the touching stuff again. Oh yeah, the blonde woman is Ellie. Try to find out about her husband . . . at least his first and last name and where they're from. If they're still here."

John nodded, vaguely wondering where Sherlock got her name from. His mind moved away from that when they met the others at what looked like a conference room turned spa. Scott glanced up at John's ruffled, half dried hair and grinned. "The tub, right?" John cleared his throat and Liam swatted his arm with a scolding look. 

"Sorry. We're glad you guys could make it down. Our favourite guests haven't made it yet."

John looked around. "Doesn't seem like her to be late for something like this."

Scott nodded his agreement. "One time she took double portions at dinner and I saw her wrapping the second one into her purse. You can order room service and get the same food, you know?" He shook his head and shrugged. 

John was about to comment when the receptionist came down, pausing when she saw Sherlock. "Got your name tag, I see," she smiled. She turned to Liam and Scott and handed them a clipboard to sign. Then she turned to John and Sherlock, raising her brows. "Hmm. You don't look like Ellie and Joe."

John glanced at Sherlock. "We were hoping there would be room to join -- "

"Sorry, scheduled appointments only."

"Well, it doesn't look like they are coming so we thought -- "

"And if I let them in and they are merely running late? What happens then?" she said annoyed. "If you want a massage you'll have to come back tonight. I can squeeze you in around eight."

Sherlock took a slight step forward and said, "That's fine . . . sorry for the inconvenience." He grabbed John's hand and pulled him out of the room, smiling lightly at Scott and Liam. In the hallway, he said to John, "I didn't want to call anymore attention to us. We'll go at eight. I'm more interested in two things: one, that the others didn't show, and two, I just realised I saw the receptionist fighting with a guy out front. Let's go find him."

John nodded and allowed Sherlock to pull him along. "What were they arguing about? Was it another employee?"

"It was an employee she was talking to and I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was clear they were arguing," Sherlock said. "Wait. I just remembered -- he was that bartender you were flirting with yesterday. Let's go to the bar and see if we can chat to him." He pulled John's hand in the opposite direction.

"I wasn't flirting," John said as he was pulled the other way. "And we can't just ask -- I'm assuming you weren't supposed to see what you saw?"

"No, they were a bit away from the building. I wasn't going to just ask. As I said, we don't want to call attention to ourselves. But that doesn't mean we can't get the information," Sherlock said. They sat down at the bar. "What do you want to drink?" he asked. He dropped his hand onto John's thigh.

John cleared his throat lightly and asked for a brandy. Heat was spreading from the place Sherlock was touching him, and he tried to hold still and not squirm around. "What will you have? Don't make me drink alone."

"I'll just have a vodka with ice, please," he said to the bartender. "How's your day been so far?" he asked him.

"Well, I've not been in very long, but so far, so good," the bartender answered. "Even better come eight o'clock hopefully."

"Something romantic?" Sherlock asked. "Have you been inspired by being around all these couples all week?"

The bartender was about to say something sarcastic, but then remembered that he was speaking to a couple from the retreat. "No, nothing romantic. I'll just be glad to get off work," he said instead.

"Hey, have you seen the receptionist around today . . . Carolyn, I think her name is," Sherlock said. "We wanted to get a few extra pillows for the room." 

The bartender glanced around the room and said, "Your best bet is to just ring housekeeping directly. I don't know where she is. If she's not where she's supposed to be, she's probably around shouting at someone else for being where they're not supposed to be. Sorry . . . she's just been horrible recently, like she's the boss of the place, but rarely being around to actually do her own job." He smiled a little. "Sorry again -- I don't mean to seem rude. But you know women . . . " He glanced over at John and then back at Sherlock. "Well, you know what I mean."

Sherlock smiled. "It sounds frustrating. We'll just ring them for the pillows. Thanks." He turned himself towards John and picked up his vodka to take a sip. 

John turned towards him as well but couldn't chat properly with the bartender still standing there. "Let's go sit in the sun," John smiled.

They got up and walked out the door towards the pool, but sat on some benches between the swim area and the building. "I'm thinking the problem might be hotel-based," Sherlock said quietly. "Do you think people are just leaving because she's horrible to them? Is it as simple as that?"

"But no one has heard from them -- wouldn't Lestrade have asked their families? And wouldn't the hotel know if they were checked out?"

"You're right -- it's too coincidental that the police wouldn't have been able to reach any of them. So are you thinking they're still in the hotel -- maybe being held somewhere? -- or are they dead? And why? I mean, the blonde and her husband were unpleasant, but do we know anything else about the other missing couples?" Sherlock asked.

John shook his head. "Besides the seminars there haven't been activities where everyone had to be in the same place. What are the chances one person would have met them all?" John said.

"The receptionist would have checked them all in," Sherlock said. He thought for a few minutes. "Yesterday, in the pool, Scott and Liam said the missing gay couple didn't seem very serious about each other. The blonde woman's husband was out prowling . . . do we know anything else about the other missing couples?"

"No, but how would we know if they were having troubles? Would they be attacked for that?"

"I don't know, John -- you're supposed to be the romance expert. It seems like it would be relatively easy to tell whether or not people were really happy in their relationship. Think of Scott and Liam versus the blonde's marriage. But why they'd be killed for that and who would kill them . . . I don't quite know those answers," Sherlock said. He looked out over the grounds and finished his drink. "We should eat earlier rather than later if we're going to get this stupid massage at eight."

"I agree. Let's go get food."

They walked down to the hall and ordered their meals. "I want to take a shower before the massage," Sherlock said. "Do you think there will be another couple there?"

"She did say she was going to squeeze us in -- she might be full," John said.

"I confess I'd just like to get it over with. Will you please turn on your extreme charm if we've got to deal with the receptionist, please? Perhaps she'll open up a bit," Sherlock said. He stood up and stretched a little. "Let's go up to room and you can organise the notes while I lie on the bed and rest."

"I thought you were going to shower," John laughed softly.

Sherlock looked at his watch. "Rest then shower," he said and he got up as they walked back to the room. He flopped down on the bed. "Can you read over what we've got?" As John did, Sherlock added a few more details for John to write down. He steepled his fingers and stared up at the ceiling. "I've got it," he said finally. "You see if you can get it as well. Talk me through your thinking."  
  
Of course, Sherlock had theories but he hadn't solved it. But sometimes hearing John's ideas helped Sherlock see more clearly.

John pursed his lips and thought about it. "I think it's jealousy, Sherlock. That usually goes hand in hand with love. I don't know who or why, but it's got to be something like that."

"Interesting," Sherlock said. "But why would the killer be jealous of unhappy couples?" he asked.

"I don't know," John said, realising that didn't make much sense. "You said you solved it already?"

"Well, I wasn't quite telling the truth there," Sherlock said smiling. "But as usual, it helps talking to you." He sat and then stood up. "I think I'll take that shower now. I'll be quick," he added, glancing over at the clock.

In the shower, he thought about what John said -- about jealousy going hand in hand with love. He wondered if that were true. When he came back out of the bathroom, he said, "What about hypocrisy? I mean, what if our killer really believes in true love and hates those who mock it. Coming to a retreat on love and commitment when you're not really in love or committed --maybe the killer sees that as a slap in the face of true love. Especially if they've just lost their own love -- maybe a death or break up? I wonder if that receptionist is married . . ." He fussed his hair in the mirror and turned to face John. "Let's get this over with then."

"That could be it as well. You think it's the receptionist? She does seem really into this stuff -- at least we're going to see her now."

Sherlock grabbed John's arm before they walked out. "Did you bring your gun . . . well, wait . . . what if we have to . . . just don't take your clothes off until you know you're safe, okay?"

Something about the way it was said made John nervous and when he took Sherlock's hand, he held it a bit more tightly than before.


	5. The Massage

They made their way back to the massage room. Sherlock kept hold of John's hand as they sat down, though he hadn't made a conscious decision to do so. No one was there yet. He looked over at John and smiled.

John smiled back and was about to tell Sherlock that everything was going to be fine when Carolyn showed up. "Well, you decided to make it," she said, unlocking the door. 

"Where is everyone else? I thought you were squeezing us in," John asked. When they stood, he continued to hold Sherlock's hand. 

"Yes. I meant squeeze you into a late time," she corrected, moving so they could step into the room. John pulled Sherlock inside and looked around. There were no tables, robes, candles, oils -- it was just an empty conference room.

"Um . . . is there the massage happens because-- " He cut off when he turned to look at her. She was locking the door and turning to glare at them. 

"You know, I love love. I really do. I can spot it in an instant. I can spot the lack of it as well." She paused for a second. "I like to make this special for everyone. Sometimes I even check people out in advance so I can learn about them -- you know to see how I can bring a little bit of their everyday life into their stay, personalise things a bit." She was pacing now, moving around the room. "And when I looked _you_ up, well, imagine my surprise when I found your blog." She looked at Sherlock. "A detective, huh?"

"I don't see what that has to do with -- "

"Shut up!" she shouted suddenly. "People come here to celebrate love. To rediscover it or strengthen it. But these fools -- " She paused to kick a closet door and John had a bad feeling about what was behind it. " -- just wasted it! Fighting and cheating and just -- doesn't anyone care about love anymore?" She sighed as if she was truly bothered by this. "I wouldn't waste it. Watching them . . . it's been awful! And the thing is . . ." She trailed off and chuckled softly, setting her keys down on a windowsill. 

"You've been killing them for fighting?" John asked, glancing at Sherlock. 

"Ugh, don't be so obvious, John. I gave them a chance. If they had truly loved each other they would all be alive. I am going to give you both the same chance, you know. You didn't mention this on your little website," she said, pointing between them. Suddenly she swung a folding chair from the wall out and it caught Sherlock's head, making him fall. John ducked and tried to tug Sherlock out of her way, but it was unexpected and he was slow. 

"Sherlock? Sherlock!" 

"Guess we'll see how real it is," she said quietly, swinging the chair out at John. He had just enough time to see Sherlock blinking his eyes at him before everything went dark.    
  
John was the last thing Sherlock saw as his eyelids closed. When they opened again, his head hurt but he couldn't lift his hand. His arm was strapped down, and then he realised his whole body was strapped down. He was in a chair next to a table. John was strapped into a chair on the other side of the table. Between them was a machine Sherlock recognised as a polygraph. "John," Sherlock called, and then he looked up at the woman. "What are you going to do? What is your plan?"

"I'm just going to ask some questions," she smiled, checking that everything was working and hooked up properly. "Who wants to go first?"

John was only just waking up, looking around for Sherlock and trying to move when he saw him. "Sherlock? Are you all right?"

"I am," Sherlock said, looking into John's eyes, hoping to reassure him. "It looks like she's going to test us, John," he said slowly. "It'll be all right. We can do this. Just be _honest_."

"Oh, shut up," she snapped, forcing John to look at her. "Tell me John, did the police send you here?"

John swallowed and said, "No."

Sherlock jumped back as an electric shock went off on his chest. Carolyn laughed. "Not off to a good start, are we, boys?"  
  
Sherlock took a long, deep breath and looked over at John again. If the danger was connected to the response of the machine, they'd both have to focus to get through it, rather than trying to come up with a plan. "The machine registers lies, John. Just tell the truth. Whatever the answer is, tell the truth," he said in a calm voice.

John jumped when Sherlock was shocked and he realised he might have shouted out as well. "I'm sorry -- I will," he nodded, looking back at Carolyn.

"Shall we try again?" Carolyn said. "The shocks increase, by the way, in case either of you is interested. John, when you went on your first date, was he charming?"

John looked over at Sherlock and thought about the first time at Angelo's. Not so much there. But the chase and the cane after . . . he looked back at her and nodded. "Yes." 

She looked over at the needle, still moving steadily. She scowled and moved to Sherlock. "Does John take you out enough?"

Sherlock wasn't sure where she was going with these questions, but he looked up at John. "Yes," he said solidly, glancing down and seeing no dramatic shift in the needle.

She looked between them and focused on Sherlock again. "When you have sex do you think John still thinks about women?" 

"No," Sherlock said. They hadn't had sex so there was no way that John could think of women during it. And besides, John didn't seem like the type who'd think of someone other than the person he was having sex with. "No," he said again. The needle didn't jump.

She looked over at John again. "I know you're faking this -- you write about everything in that stupid blog. If you were really together, you'd have written about that."

"This is personal," John said.

She grinned. "Are you ashamed of Sherlock?"

John shook his head. "No!" He didn't even need to think about that one. The needle stayed still and she growled in frustration. 

She turned back to Sherlock. "Was John your first true love?" she asked. 

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment. This felt like a trick question -- like if he'd ever said the word love before, that would count somehow. When he was a child, he used to tell his dog how much he loved it -- does that mean the dog was his first love? "No," he finally said.

The shock passed through John and made him pull at the ties, groaning softly. He looked to Sherlock and shook his head. "I'm fine -- it's okay," he said. 

Carolyn laughed. "Do you even love him?" she asked Sherlock. 

Sherlock looked over at John. "Yes, I love him," he said softly, not looking away.

The answer registered to John first and then he braced for the shock. But nothing came. He was still staring at Sherlock when Carolyn gripped his face and forced John to look at her. "Do you love him?"

John thought for a moment. The answer no didn't sound right. "Yes," John nodded, glancing over at Sherlock at then back at her. "Yes, I love him."

The machine did not react. 

Sherlock looked over at John and smiled a little. Then he looked up at the woman. "Next question," he said to her, confidently.

"No!" She shouted, shoving John away from her. "No, you can't trick me! Coming here so late -- you're working for the cops. You are not together -- not in love! You pretend and you mock it!" She was pacing, pulling at her own hair. "You're just like them!"

John was pulling at the ties now that she wasn't looking, not bothering to hide the fact that he was openly trying to get out. He motioned at Sherlock to do the same. 

Sherlock scanned the woman and the room to see what else could be used as a weapon. When one hand was free, he reached into his pocket and hit redial to ring Lestrade. "It's all right, Carolyn," he said in a soft, sweet voice that barely sounded like his own. "You know what love is -- you'll find it again." He looked over at John. 

"Shut up!" she snapped, rounding on Sherlock now. "You think that I can't find someone else? You think that's why I'm still alone? It's not. No one knows how to love properly -- no one knows what they are doing and they are so hard to train! No one deserves my love!"

John worked his hand free and moved very quickly. He freed his other hand, tore off the sensors and jumped her. She shouted and tried to fend him off but John was a lot stronger. "Tie her up," he grunted out at Sherlock, holding her hands down.  

Sherlock grabbed a handful of the wires, yanking them from the machine and using one to tie her hands behind her back. "Lestrade's on the way," he said. "You okay?" he said to John. He held the woman's tied wrists with one hand and pulled the sensors off himself with the other.

John nodded. "Yeah, are you?" he asked, getting up only when he was sure that she was securely tied up. He went to the closet she had kicked before and pulled it open, covering his nose and mouth as he swore. The bodies were piled up, wrapped in plastic. He shut the door again and came over to Sherlock. "They are all in there."

Sherlock grimaced. He pulled on the woman's arms, and he and John took her out to the front office. When the police arrived, he let them take her. He and John led Lestrade to the bodies, explaining what had happened.

"Fucking hell," Lestrade said, covering his face. "Insane . . ." he mumbled and then turned to John and Sherlock. "You two all right?"  
  
"Of course," Sherlock said, glancing at John who nodded. "Are we done here?" he asked Lestrade. "We need to get our stuff from the room before we leave . . . "

"Yeah," Lestrade said. "I'll ring you if I need anything else." A few officers came in and he motioned them over to the closet.

"Thank God, that's over," John said.

Sherlock nodded and said, "Let's go." He led John back to the room.


	6. It's Over

When they were making their way back to the room, a thought creeped into John's head now that he could think a bit clearly. They had just admitted they loved each other. In all of the confusion could he trust that machine? _But you meant it._ John glanced over at Sherlock and then down again. Yes, John had meant it -- he knew that much. But had Sherlock meant it as well?

Once they got back in the room, Sherlock walked over to the window and looked out for a moment. Then he moved and sat down on the bed. "Strange," he said aloud, about nothing and about everything. He lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes. "I meant it," he said quietly, without opening his eyes. "Did you?"

John's breath hitched lightly as he looked over at Sherlock. He moved and closed his eyes as he lay on his back facing the ceiling. "Yes, I meant it, too." He reached out and took Sherlock's hand. 

"And when we're back at the flat? Will you still mean it then?" Sherlock asked. He hadn't moved or opened his eyes, but he held onto John's hand.

"Yeah, I will," he nodded. "Will you?"

"Yes," Sherlock said. He swallowed. "Do you mean . . . like Scott and Liam then . . . or just like friends?"

John smiled softly. "Like Scott and Liam," he confirmed.

Sherlock squeezed John's hand and then lifted it up to his mouth and kissed it softly. Then he lay it back down on the bed between them.

John smiled wider, turning onto his side. He leaned over and kissed Sherlock's cheek, his lips, lingering a bit before he lay on his back again. They were silent and still for a little while

Finally, Sherlock, without turning his head, said, "It'd be foolish for me not to try the bath before we leave, don't you think?"

"It really is fantastic." John opened his eyes and licked his lips lightly. "You know, as a first time user you should take a guide -- someone who's used it before, you know?"

"Okay," Sherlock said, sitting up. "I'll go down and see if I can find Scott or Liam to help me."

"You better not!" John laughed softly, sitting up as well and gripping his hand again

"Fine, you'll have to do, I guess," Sherlock said. He stood up and moved to the bathroom and turned on the tub.

John got up and followed him, lifting his hands to start opening Sherlock's shirt.

"I'm nervous a little," Sherlock said softly to John.

"I am too," John admitted. He leaned up and kissed Sherlock softly on the mouth.

"That was nice," Sherlock said quietly. He slipped off his shirt and then took John's off of him. He stepped closer and pulled their bodies together, wrapping his arms around John's back. It felt so normal, so comfortable, so right.

John buried into his chest, smiling and pressing a kiss there. He held Sherlock close, enjoying the moment of simply touching him.

Sherlock pulled away lightly and reached over to turn off the water. Then he kicked off his shoes and socks and slipped off his trousers and got into the water. "Should I have put bubbles in?" he said, as way of distracting them from their nerves.

John shook his head. He removed the rest of his clothes slowly. The tub was big enough for him to get in facing Sherlock. He sank into the hot water and at the same time slid up to lay his body over Sherlock's. He pecked his lips lightly. "Is this okay?"

"Yes, it's nice," Sherlock said, moving his arms to rest on John's back. "This is nice." He wasn't quite sure what else to say: in truth, all that was in his head at the moment was just how incredibly nice this felt. He put a kiss on the top of John's head.

John relaxed against him, humming softly at the kiss. He could hardly believe this was happening -- he never wanted to move from here. 

"I'm kind of getting an erection, John," Sherlock said quietly. "I still want to stay here like this, but I just wanted to let you know. I've not ever really found myself in the position of lying naked in a huge bath with someone I just realised I love. An erection seems logical. I hope it doesn't bother you." He moved his hand softly on John's back, swirling the water a bit. He dropped his chin a little and gave John an awkward smile.

"I don't mind, love. I am getting one as well but we can just keep lying just like this if you want," he said. The water was still hot and Sherlock was comfortable. 

"I want to kiss more," Sherlock said. He slipped down a little so their faces lined up, and then reached over and kissed his mouth. The kiss was soft and long.

John hummed his agreement, pressing into the kiss but only lightly to keep it slow. 

Sherlock shifted slightly. The pressure of John's body against his felt good. He slid one hand down to John's hip and gripped it. He kissed John a little harder.

John rolled his hips lightly, glad there was enough room in the tub to move comfortably. His hands were flat against Sherlock's chest, and he slid them up around his neck. 

"Will we do these kinds of things when we get home?" Sherlock asked quietly. "Not the bath bit obviously . . ."

John nodded. "I would like to," he murmured. "And we can sit in our bath too -- it'll just be a lot less comfortable."

Sherlock tried to imagine it, but then decided not to think about home just yet and instead just enjoy this. They'd have to leave the hotel soon, and they'd deal with all the changes then. But for now, this was all Sherlock needed to think about. He kissed John's mouth again and then moved and kissed his neck, which was wet and warm from the bath water. "Thanks for not electrocuting me," he said, smiling against John's skin.

John smiled, moving so he could meet Sherlock's eyes. "I was scared, Sherlock. I was so scared that my nerves were going to set it off even though I was telling the truth. Polygraphs aren't totally reliable."

"She didn't even need it, did she? I mean, it was relatively easy to figure out who was really in love."

"Yeah, but everyone loves differently. It wasn't up to her to determine whose love was real," John said. 

"True enough, but ultimately it wasn't her determining it, was it? It was their answers," Sherlock said. "I'm glad our answers were true, not just because of the shock business, but because of this." He squeezed John to him.

"I agree. At first, I wasn't sure if you were really telling the truth," John admitted.

"But I told you to be honest, you should've known I'd be honest, too," Sherlock said. "Can I tell you something honestly now?"

"Yes," John nodded, looking between his eyes.

"I wish we could stay right here like this forever," Sherlock said, smiling, "but I'm starting to get cold."

John smiled and leaned up to kiss his mouth. It lasted a bit longer than he meant to before pulling back and nodding. "I am getting a bit cold myself." He moved to stand up, shivering in the exposed bathroom before getting out and drying off. He handed Sherlock a towel as well, watching him happily. 

Sherlock dried off and then looked over at John. "Let's kiss one more time before we get dressed," he said, pulling John in close and kissing his mouth. Then he stepped back and got dressed. He threw his stuff into his bag and walked over to the window. "Let's go down and say goodbye to Liam and Scott before we leave," he said, looking over at John.

John smiled. "Yes, I would really like that. They were very nice. Are we going to tell them about what we were really doing here?"

"We can now," Sherlock said. "Honesty's paid off for us today, after all."

"We should keep with the story that we were a couple -- just add the fact that we were undercover," John suggested. 

"That's fine . . . it's true after all, we just didn't know it," Sherlock said. He slipped his bag over his shoulder and reached out to grab John's hand. They walked down to the pool.

When Liam saw them, he waved and called, "Are you two leaving already?"  
  
"We are," Sherlock said, sitting down at the table. He slid his card across the table. "Here you go," he said, "if you're ever in London . . ."

"We weren't exactly truthful about why we were here in the first place," John admitted.

Scott leaned over to look at the card and gasped, hitting Liam's arm.  "I told you I recognised that name! I'm pretty sure you helped a friend of mine with a cheating wife a long time ago," he smiled. 

"Were you on a case then?" Liam asked.

Sherlock smiled. "Yes, but it's all sorted now. You're safe to stay here."

"We're heading home tomorrow anyway," Scott said. "The week's up -- time to face real life again."

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourselves," Sherlock said, realising he was about a thousand times more chatty than he ever was with people at home. "Hopefully, being here will have served you well. It's done wonders for us," he added, looking over and smiling at John.

John grinned and took his hand again. "I hope you guys enjoyed the week. Like Sherlock said, if you're ever in London please come find us."

"Well, thanks for being here to protect us mere mortals," Scott teased. "I'm glad you got to the truth."

Sherlock stood up. "So are we." He put his arm around John as they said goodbye.

John waved and leaned into Sherlock, happy to be going home. He was eager to explore this new relationship, silently thanking fate for this case that brought both of them out of their funk and back to their senses. 


End file.
